


The Shadowman

by TwistedFireInMySoul



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Advice, Dark, Hallucinations, Help, Morbid, Other, Random - Freeform, mental health, shadowman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8856211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedFireInMySoul/pseuds/TwistedFireInMySoul
Summary: I needed to post this, because of the way that this piece of work came into being. It is absolutely random, I know, but I need help. Sometime last week, I had an outburst which I had no control over. My friend reported me having glazed-over eyes, and being afraid of everyone and everything. During this period, I wrote this, and reading it back over scares me. Is it just nonsense, or has anyone else seen this shadowman? I need to know, so if anyone has any advice, or has seen him too, please comment below.





	

 

I’m not crazy, I swear I’m not crazy.

 

I keep seeing a man, but there’s nothing human about him. He’s tall, and I can’t see any features, no matter what the lighting. He’s like a blot of ink on a piece of white paper, only a dark outline against their vibrant world. I say ‘their’ because I don’t feel like I can be classed as one of ‘them’ anymore.

 

His eyes. His bright eyes, like torch beams, refuse to leave my mind. Every time I blink I see him, and I’m scared to close my eyes. He gets worse, the longer that I’m away from my addictive drug. I’m not homeless, I don’t do anything illegal; my drug is love, the feeling of being wanted, being needed, but now all I feel is fear, and being numb.

 

I’m rambling now. My handwriting is turning sloppy, and my throat is closing up. I can barely breathe, and I can’t talk because my own body hates me. It seems that my mind is failing me too, as my memories are crumbling away. I can’t remember anything, but no one believes me.

 

I’m falling, I’m certain of it. I’m shaking, and I’m hearing things; I’m SEEING things. He’s there, at the window, and I’m sure that if he had a mouth he’s be grinning at me. Instead, I can’t get his eyes out of my head. My eyelids have been seared, and I just want to escape now.

 

I can’t, I can’t. He’s gone, my drug is gone, and I know I’ll never have anything so potent again. Maybe that’s why the shadowman is following me, because he knows that I may join him soon.

 

God, my voice sounds terrible. It sounds as if I’m being strangled; I feel like I’m being strangled.

 

He’s gone, but I’m not sure how long it’ll be until he’s back. If I put on a face, no one will know of what plagues my soul. As long as I wear my façade, then they will be safe from my burdens.

 

**DON’T. DON’T SAY THAT WORD.**

 

I feel so damn guilty. It’s all my fault. I can’t see now. My eyes are glazed over. I. Can’t. See. Or. Breathe.

 

It’s all my fault.

 

My heart aches, and it keeps making funny, juddery noises. It’s making my stomach turn, and I feel sick, but if I say anything then I’m sure that the floodgates will open. I don’t like talking to people, because they don’t understand, and make everything feel like a damn competition.

 

Someone pretended to be unwell. I could tell they were faking it. Their eyes didn’t show true fear. I’ve been ill for longer than people realise. Nearly 2 months now. I can practically feel my body shutting down. I need help, but I’ve now given up on asking.

 

I hate being watched. Not just by physical people, but by other things that I can see. The shadowman isn’t here yet, but I’m glad. I hate him, and he only watches, always watches.

 

My sense of balance is failing. I’m scared that I’m going to fall, going to crumble in front of someone, and I won’t be able to bluff my way out of it.

 

There is silence now. Pure, dark, blissful, silence.

 


End file.
